Chapter 16 Chapter Sixteen

Arthas rushed toward the camp with his men, hoping the battle was not at a disadvantage without him.The number of his soldiers dwindled, but there were no dead bodies on the ground. He didn't expect to see the corpses either. Those who fell were resurrected as undead and brought under the command of the dreadlord. Falric's armor was spattered with blood, and he shouted, "Prince Arthas! We've done our best—where's Muradin? We can't take it anymore!" "Muradin is dead," Arthas said.The cold but pleasant feeling of Frostmourne weakened a little, and pain filled his heart.Muradin had paid a price, but it would have been worth it if he could bring down Mel'Ganis.I believe the dwarf will agree, he knows everything, understands everything, just like Arthas himself.Muradin's men grieved, but they continued to fire at the swarming undead. "His death was not in vain. Take courage, Captain. There is no foe against the power of Frostmourne!"

They looked at him with doubts on their faces, and Arthas was already on the battlefield. He thought he was wielding the blessed hammer, but compared to his current lethality, the weapon that was discarded and forgotten in the frozen cave that sealed Frostmourne was nothing.Frostmourne is not just a weapon, but an extension of his body.He quickly found a rhythm and began to chop down the hordes of undead like stubble ears under a scythe.How perfect and balanced the weapon was in his hands.The blade arced and decapitated a ghoul at shoulder length; Frostmourne swept across and shattered a skeleton; then another graceful blow brought down a third foe.As he fought his way, enemies fell around him and their rotting corpses began to pile up.Frostmourne almost seemed to be singing in his hand.When he was looking for his next enemy, he happened to see Falik staring at him, with awe, shock and...fear on his familiar face?Presumably it was just awe of the massacre he was carrying out.

The wind gradually picked up, and the snow fell heavily.Frostmourne seemed to have no objection, because the falling snowflakes did not hinder Arthas' movements in the slightest.Again and again, the blade went straight to the target, and the undead creatures fell one after another.Finally, the minions are all taken care of, and it's their master's turn. "Melganis, you coward!" Arthas yelled, his voice piercing the icy wind so easily that even his own voice sounded strange. "Stand up! You inspired me to come here, come out and face me now!" Next came the demon lord.He was even bigger than Alsace had imagined, smiling condescendingly at the prince.He stood upright, flapping his wings and flicking his tail.He moved his fingers casually, and all the undead soldiers under his command remained motionless.

Arthas had been prepared this time, and the fearsome appearance of the Dreadlord did not frighten him.He stared at the enemy, holding up Frostmourne without a word, the runes etched on the sword gleaming.Mel'Ganis recognized the sword, and his blue lips curled up. "Then, as the Lord of Darkness said, you acquired Frostmourne at the cost of the lives of your comrades. You are stronger than I thought." His words came to his ears, but there were other voices, whispering in his head as smooth as silk.Arthas listened, then smiled grimly. "You are wasting your tongue, Mel'Ganis. I will only listen to Frostmourne's voice now."

The dreadlord threw back his horned head and laughed. "You heard the voice of the Lord of Darkness." He retorted, pointing at the powerful rune sword with a finger with sharp black nails. "He speaks to you through the sword in your hand." Arthas turned pale for a moment.Master of the Dreadlord... speaking to him through Frostmourne?But...how is this possible?Is this the final trap?He had been tricked and sent straight into the hands of Mel'Ganis? "What did he say, young human?" The dreadlord laughed wildly, a kind of complacency at seeing others kept in the dark. "What did the Lord of Darkness who controls death say to you?"

Whispers sounded again, and this time it was Arthas' turn to smile, exactly the same expression as the Dreadlord just now.Now he was the one who kept Mel'Ganis in the dark.Arthas raised Frostmourne above his head in an attacking stance, the gigantic blade gleaming gracefully in his hand. "He told me it was time for revenge." Those glowing green eyes widened. "What? There's no way he's thinking—" Arthas rushed forward. The mighty rune sword was raised and lowered.The Dread Demon King was caught off guard for a moment, and reluctantly raised the scepter in his hand to parry the blow.He leapt aside, a gust of wind from the great bat's wings whipping Arthas' blond hair violently, but doing nothing to his balance or speed.He launched fierce attacks one after another, calm as ice, yet swift and deadly like a poisonous snake.The blade flashed eagerly, and a fleeting thought flitted through his mind: Frostmourne longing.

And somewhere in his heart echoed a trembling of fear: What is it longing for? It does not matter.He, Arthas, longed for vengeance, and he was about to get it.Every time Mel'Ganis tried to cast a spell, Frostmourne forced him to move, and the relentless attack left him scarred until the moment of the final blow came. Arthas felt the burning desire of Frostmourne, he shouted, and the runeblade cut a mortal wound in Mel'Ganis' upper abdomen in an arc of blue light. Black blood spurted out and dripped on the snow, and the Dreadlord fell to the ground with a shocked expression on his face.Until the end he couldn't believe that he was defeated.

For a moment, Arthas stood on the blade of Frostmourne, stained with demonic black blood, in the gushing wind and snow, the runes flashing to reflect the glorious scene. "It's over," he said softly. For this part of your journey, yes, young prince.Frostmourne whispered—or was it really the Dark Lord that Mel'Ganis spoke of?He doesn't know and doesn't care.Arthas bent down and carefully wiped the sword clean with the snow.But there's more.so much.So much power, so much knowledge and power, it will all be yours. Arthas remembered the inscription Muradin deciphered, and his hand reached for his heart unconsciously.Now the sword was a part of him, and he was a part of it.

As the blizzard intensified, he began to realize to his amazement that he wasn't cold at all.He stood up straight and looked around with Frostmourne in his hand.The demon fell stiffly at his feet.That voice - Frostmourne or that mysterious dark lord - was right. But there's more.so much. And winter will teach him everything. Arthas Menethil held his runeblade tightly and looked up, then strode into the depths of the blizzard. Arthas knew that he would never forget the sound of the bell in this lifetime.They are only sounded on occasions of state ceremonies, such as the royal wedding, the birth of the crown prince, the funeral of the former king, etc., which are all major events that record the history of a dynasty.But today they were ringing in celebration, because of him, Arthas Menethil was back.

He had sent to announce his triumph in advance.He discovered the mastermind behind the plague, took him out, executed the Fa on the spot, and then returned to his hometown in glory.When he walked up the road to the capital, the people greeted their beloved prince with cheers and applause, thanking him for saving the people from disaster.He accepted it as a matter of course, but in his heart he only wanted to see his father. "I want to have a private meeting with you, my lord, to report all that I have learned and seen," he wrote, sending a courier a few days in advance. "I know, you've talked to Jaina and Uther. I can imagine what they said—all against me. But I assure you, everything I did was out of respect for Lo The consideration of the greatest welfare of the people of Danlun. In the end, I eliminated the man who brought the plague to our people and returned in triumph, looking forward to writing a new chapter for our kingdom."

Behind him, the accompanying soldiers covered their faces under their cloaks, silent as he was.The triumphant triumph of the army was celebrated wildly, and their indifference did not seem to be noticed.The huge drawbridge was lowered, and Arthas strode across.Here too there was a cheering crowd, but not of common people, but of diplomatic envoys, minor nobles, and distinguished guests from all races of elves, dwarves, and dwarves.They not only stood in the middle of the courtyard, but also on the high viewing platform.Pink, white, and bright red rose petals rained down on the triumphant heroes. Arthas remembered that he had imagined Jaina standing beside him at his wedding, her smiling face bathed in a rain of petals, raising her head to kiss him. Jaina... His heart moved, he stretched out his gloved hand to catch a red petal and rubbed it gently with his thumb, and his thoughts were full of thoughts for a while.The petals faded in his hands, shriveled and withered, and finally turned brown.Arthas frowned, threw away the dead petals contemptuously, and continued walking forward. Arthas pushed open the door and strode forward into the throne room he was all too familiar with.He cast a quick glance at Tenaris, and smiled at his father from under his cloak.He knelt down with Frostmourne in front of him, the tip of his sword touching the seal etched on the flagstone floor. "Ah, my child. I am so glad to see you home safe and sound," said Tenaris, lifting himself somewhat wobbly. Tenaris looks out of health, Arthas thought.The events of recent months had aged the king, who now had gray hair and tired eyes. But everything will be fine now. You no longer have to sacrifice for your people.You no longer have to bear the weight of this crown.I've taken care of everything. Arthas stood up, his armor clanging with the movement.He raised a hand and lifted the hood from his face, watching his father's reaction.Tenaris' eyes widened as he saw the change in his only son. Alsace's once wheat-blond hair was now bone-white.He knew that his own face was also pale, without any color. it's time.Frostmourne whispered in her mind. Arthas walked towards his father, who was paralyzed on the throne, dumbfounded and at a loss.There were a few guards in the hall, but they were no match for him, Frostmourne, and the two followers.Arthas strode up the carpeted steps and grabbed his father. Arthas raised his sword back, the runes of Frostmourne glowing eagerly.He heard a voice, not from Frostmourne, but from his own memory. It was the voice of a black-haired prince, and it sounded like something from a previous life... "He was assassinated. A trusted friend... She killed him. A sword pierced the heart..." Arthas shook his head, and the voice disappeared. "What's going on here? What are you doing, my lord?" "Inherit the great line... Father King." Then Frostmourne's thirst was satisfied—for now. Arthas left his loyal new subjects free.After the death of his father, it was a piece of cake to kill the guards who rushed up, and now he ruthlessly returned to the courtyard outside. too crazy. Revelry becomes frenzy; celebration becomes flight.Few survived, and those who had waited in line for hours to welcome the prince back now mostly died on the spot, blood clotted from horrific wounds and strewn limbs strewn all over the place.Regardless of high or low, regardless of gender, regardless of age, everything is equal in the face of death. Arthas didn't care about their ultimate fate, whether to feed the crows or become his new subjects, it was left to his two captains to take care of.Falik and Marwen, they were as pale as Alsace, but more ruthless than him.Arthas strode forward the way he had come, with only one goal in mind. After clearing all the corpses in the courtyard, he suddenly ran wildly.No horse could carry him now, and the animals feared him and the breath of the legion of dead.But he found he wasn't tired at all, as long as Frostmourne whispered to him, as long as the Lich King spoke to him through the runeblade.He strode like flying, and soon came to a place he hadn't been to for many years. The voice echoed in his mind, it was a fragment of memory. "You know you can't ride him just yet." "You skipped class again..." Invincible screamed in pain, which echoed in his mind for a long time.The Light paused for a moment, as if deciding whether he was worthy of its favor.Jaina's expression when he broke off the relationship. "Listen to me, child... the shadow has fallen, and no matter what you do, it will never be undone... the more eager you are to destroy your enemies, the sooner you will send your people into their hands..." "...this is not a withered apple tree, this is a city full of people!..." "...we know too little to kill them like animals just out of our own fear!" "You lied to your men, and you betrayed the mercenaries who fought for you! . . . This is the child of King Tenaris." But they couldn't see it, they couldn't understand it.Jaina... Uther... Tenaris... Muradin.They all wanted to use words or expressions to tell him that he was wrong. He slowed down in front of the farm.His servants had already arrived, and now there were only corpses lying stiff on the ground.Arthas recognized them: a man, a woman, and a young man of his own age; he tried his best to suppress the grief in his heart, and it was a blessing for them to die like this. This year's snapdragon... looks like crazy.Arthas stepped closer, reaching out a hand to caress the beautiful tall blue-purple flowers.Then, thinking of the rose petal, he stopped hesitantly. He didn't come to see the flowers. He turned and walked towards an almost seven-year-old grave.Weeds have covered it, but the tombstone is still clearly identifiable.In fact, he knew what was buried there without even looking. He stood silently for a while, mourning more for the dead in the tomb than the father he killed himself. This power is yours.That voice sounded.Do whatever you want. Arthas held Frostmourne tightly, and stretched out his other hand forward. The dark light circulated around his hand, and the speed gradually increased, and then rolled and snaked out along his fingers, one end at a time. Dive into the ground. Arthas felt the energy connect to the skeletons in the ground.There was ecstasy in his heart, and tears stung his eyes.He raised his hand and awakened the thing that had bid farewell to death under the cold and dark earth from seven years of sleep. "Get up!" he called out. The cemetery burst open, and clods of earth splashed in all directions.Bone's long legs kicked, the horse's hooves found support on the turbulent mud, and its skull poked forward through the mud. Arthas held his breath watching this scene, with a smile on his pale face. I watched you be born, he recalled that little life wriggling wet in the membrane.I brought you into this world with my own hands, and sent you away with my own hands... Now, with my hands, you can be reborn again. The skeleton army horse struggled to break through the ground, and it stood up on its front legs, with red flames burning in its empty eye sockets.It shook its head and jumped up, even though the soft tissue had long since rotted away, the skeleton army horse neighed. Trembling, Arthas reached out to the undead creature, which hissed and rubbed against his hand with its bony muzzle.Seven years ago he caused the horse's death; seven years ago he wiped the frozen tears from his face and thrust his sword through the heart of the beloved steed. He'd always felt guilty about it, but now he knew it was just part of his destiny.If he hadn't killed the steed then, he would have lost it now.All living horses fear him, but not the undead.Its eyes blazed, its bones were held together by necromancy, and Arthas thanked the mysterious Lich King for the gift.Now, horse and rider are finally reunited, as if they were meant to be. What happened seven years ago was not a mistake, he never missed it.Not then, and not now. will never. And here's the proof. Frostmourne is still red with the blood of his father, and he now rules the realm.Death is approaching, and the world changes drastically. "This kingdom will fall," he swung his cloak and mounted his horse, promising his beloved steed, "and from the ruins a new order will emerge that will shake the world!" The war horse neighed. Invincible.Before the episode, the ranger-general of Quel'Thalas, the Banshee, and the Dark Queen of the Forgotten, Sylvanas Windrunner walked from the Royal Quarter with brisk steps as before. She enjoys going about her daily activities in this physical form.Her boots made no sound on the stone floors of the Undercity, but all turned their heads to look at their queen, the one and only queen who was always right. Once upon a time, she had golden hair and blue eyes, and her complexion was as beautiful as a fresh peach.At that time, she was still alive.But now her hair was as black as night, streaked with silver, always under a blue-black cloak; her peachy skin was a dull blue-gray. Cirvanas was wearing the skillfully crafted leather armor she had in her lifetime, revealing her slender and vigorous body.Her ears trembled slightly, listening to the whispers around her.On weekdays, she rarely stepped out of her room. As the ruler of the city, she usually waited for others to come to see her. The chief pharmacist Faranell, the leader of the Royal Society of Pharmacists, walked quickly beside her, and said with a courteous smile, "Your Majesty the Queen condescends to come down, and the villain is very grateful." He nodded and bowed, and said as he walked, "You used to Said, you will be notified when the experiment is successful; and you want to see our—” "Of course I remember what I said very clearly, Doctor." As they walked along a winding passage toward the depths of the Undercity, Cirvanas said sharply. "Of course, of course. Here we are." The room they were now entering was a room of terror to a weak-willed mind.On a large square table, a hunched undead hummed under his breath as he busily stitched together the fragments of various corpses.Cirvanas smiled slightly. "It's nice to see someone who loves his work so much." She smiled mischievously.The apprentice was a little surprised, and then buried his head deeply. There was a low crackle of energy in the room.The other alchemists were busy mixing potions, weighing raw materials, and filling in records.The air smelled of rancidity and chemicals mixed with the uncoordinated sweet scent of some herbal freshness.Sylvanas was a little shocked by her own reaction.The scent of the herb made her strangely... homesick.Fortunately, the tenderness didn't last long.This feeling never lasts. "Let me see it," she demanded.Faranell bowed and led her through the main experimental area, past the body parts hanging from iron hooks, and into a side room. Faint sobs came into his ears, and Cirvanas walked into the room, and saw several cages containing experimental samples placed on the floor, or dangling while hanging on iron chains. Some of them were humans, some of them Forsaken, all glazed-eyed, numb with deep and long terror. This won't last long. "As you can imagine, my queen," Faranell said, "it is quite difficult to transport the Scourge as an experimental sample. Of course, from an experimental point of view, the Forsaken and the Scourge are the same. You report that our field tests have well demonstrated the success of the tests." Cirvanas was slightly agitated, and she showed a rare and beautiful smile to the pharmacist. "It makes me happy," she said.Dr. Undead, trembling with delight, gestured to his assistant Keefer.This Forsaken had suffered a bit of brain damage when he died before. When he was preparing two experimental samples, he kept muttering to himself. One specimen was a female human, who had clearly not yet lost herself in the terror and despair, and began to sob softly as Keefer pulled her out of the cage.The other male Forsaken stood in complete expressionless silence.Sylvanas watched him. "Prisoner?" "Of course, my queen." She wondered if that was true, but in the end it didn't matter.Even so, he was serving the Forsaken.The human girl fell to her knees, and Keefer bent down and pulled her hair, poured a cup of something into her mouth as she opened her mouth to cry out for pain, then closed her mouth, forcing her to swallow. Cirvanas watched the girl's struggle with cold eyes. And on the side, the male Forsaken took the cup from Faraniel without any resistance and drank it down in one gulp. The effect of the medicine came quickly.The human girl stopped struggling, her body tensed, and then began to bleed from her orifices. Keefer released his hand and watched curiously, and Sylvanas turned his gaze to the Forsaken, who was still watching her silently and firmly.The Dark Queen frowned. "Maybe it doesn't work as well as you say—" The Forsaken suddenly trembled. He struggled to stand firm, but his rapidly depleted body was unable to support him, so he staggered and fell heavily to the ground.Everyone backed away, Cirvanas watched intently, and slightly parted his lips excitedly. "Same breed?" she asked Faraniel.The female human whimpered, her eyes widened and she stopped moving.The pharmacist nodded happily. "Of course," he said, "you can imagine how we--" The undead twitched, his skin cracked everywhere, and black pus flowed out, and then he stopped moving. "—very pleased with the result." "Indeed." Cirvanas said, unable to hide his joy. The word "satisfaction" is simply too pale. "A plague that kills both humans and Scourge. And, apparently, it works on my people too, for they are undead, too." Her silver eyes gleamed at him. "We have to be careful to make sure it never falls into the wrong hands. Otherwise the consequences will be... catastrophic. " He took a deep breath. "Indeed, my queen. indeed so. " On the way back to the Royal Quarter, she tried to put on a normal expression, but thousands of thoughts flashed through her mind.And it was one idea that stood out the most, burning as wild and bright as the vine man she lit every Halloween. In the end, Arthas, you will pay for what you have done.Humans have bred bastards like you, and they're going to be slaughtered.Your plagues will come to an abrupt end.You'll never want to hide behind those brainless undead golem armies again.You have shown us kindness and mercy, and we will reciprocate. Despite trying to control herself, she smiled.